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It’s A Blonde Thing?

My husband had to work yesterday so my dad picked Fussypants up from school and took him to baseball practice (it takes a village, remember) and I ended up arriving at home with Little Miss before they did. In her typical I’m 3 and most days think clothing should be optional unless it’s an accessory fashion sense way, she began to undress as she walked through the door. One shoe there, another…way…over….there…socks, skirt…all discarded haphazardly in her wake.

I saw the socks first. We have a Golden Retriever who thinks all socks should be his. Thus tiny, casually discarded footwear always hits my radar. So I asked her to pick them up. It went something like this…

Me: Honey, dirty socks don’t belong on the dining room floor. Put them in the laundry please.
Little Miss: I can’t find the other one.
Me: You’d better. I don’t want Crusher to eat it.

Thinking she obliged, I went about my business of preparing dinner. Then I noticed she was still hunting around the dining room.

Me: Did you find it?
Little Miss: Nope.

As my dad and son walked in the house, I realized that she hadn’t found it…because she was still wearing it.

FPK_onesock

I don’t know what’s worse. Me not noticing, or her!

 

 

 

gingerbreadmama

Writer’s Workshop: “Nit”-picking

2.) Share one of your “did that really just happen to me” life moments.

I can now say that I have been professionally deloused. Check that off the bucket list.

Parenting is fun, isn’t it? I spent two days, including a Saturday night, washing everything in the house and boiling hairbrushes after my three year old daughter was sent home from school with “nits”.

You are getting itchy just reading this, aren’t you?

Apparently she was the second child to be sent home from school that week. Sadly, lice happens. It’s beyond gross, but you have to deal with it. Or it will just get worse.

So, after treating her with an over the counter remedy at home, I made an appointment at a Lice Salon (so glamorous, my life) on the recommendation of a friend, and I am very happy I did. Because the “combing out” aspect of the process is very important and very tedious, and when you have a child who screams as though a limb is being torn off just upon seeing a hairbrush, having someone else do it is a GODSEND.

A little over 2 hours later, we were all deloused, smelled like the inside of a cedar closet and were equipped with follow-up instructions. I now know more about the lice lifecycle than I care to admit and will be arming myself with a lint roller the next time I get on an airplane or go to the movies.

But the best part of the process? I got to go through it not only with my terrified of the combing process three year old, but also with my mother-in-law, while I was nursing a small hangover. A bonding “did that really just happen to me” moment, to be sure.

Mama Kat

gingerbreadmama

Tot Talk: three year old gems

So this guy is posting videos of conversations with his two year old, as reenacted by himself and another grown man. They are very funny, especially the cookie convo in episode #3. I’ve had that conversation, or a version of it, on several occasions with both my kids.

So it got me thinking about conversations with my own children and I thought I’d share two gems that occurred just this morning, in the span of 3o minutes, with my three year old daughter.

Little Miss, at a young age, took a vested interest in her clothing, to the point where we started having arguments over what character she wanted to wear on her underwear when she was barely two. For the record, I do not give a hoot what she chooses, I just want her to choose…and therein lies the issue most mornings. The upside is that she has now started to thank me for washing her favorite undies.

 Today’s clothing drama had to do with shoes. The conversation went something like this.

 Me: Do you guys have your socks and shoes on? We need to leave.

Little Miss: No. I want to wear flip-flops.

Me: You can’t wear flip-flops. No open toed shoes at school because you play outside.

LM: (pouting): I want to wear flip-flops like you.

Me: I’m wearing sandals. And I don’t get to play outside.

LM: You don’t get to play outside? (Accompanied by the saddest face ever so now I’m feeling bad I have to go sit in an office).

Me: No, but you do, so let’s get shoes on.

LM: I want to wear Cinderella shoes. With socks.

Me: Fine (and we get her in shoes).

 As I’m locking the door, she turns to me and says, “These hurt, I want my fast shoes (that’s what she calls her sneakers).

And I wonder why I’m never on time.

The second conversation gem took place in the car.

LM: I want Minnie Mouse.

Me: Where is Minnie Mouse?

LM: There.

Me: Honey, I’m driving the car, I can’t see her.

LM: She’s right there.

Me (straining to see where she is pointing in the rearview mirror): On the floor?

LM: There!

Me: Sweets, I’m driving on the freeway,  I can’t reach her right now. You’ll have to wait.

LM: You are not driving the freeway, you are driving the car.

Me: Right, I’m driving the car on the freeway.

LM (a little quieter): You are driving the car, not the freeway.

 She always has to have the last word.

By the way, the second conversation took place after she ate it in the parking lot when dropping her brother off. She was walking on the curb, slipped and scrapped her knee, then freaked out when it started to bleed. I tried to console her with kisses but she only wanted a Band-Aid, which, thankfully, I found in the glove compartment shoved between sunglasses and my car’s user manual.

Note to self, restock the car with Band-Aids.

gingerbreadmama

Mother’s Day Gift

Two days before Mother’s Day and I did something really dumb. Fussypants asked me this morning if I could walk him into class today, because he had a gift for me. I said sure, and he said, no I mean really walk into my classroom, come all the way in. I have a surprise.

So I did and was given a brightly decorated for me,  by my son, bag. His teacher told me to be careful with it, because what was inside was breakable. My son, beaming, gave me a kiss and said Happy Mother’s Day Mama!

bag

With a full heart and a big smile, I tenderly carried it to the car. Little Miss had chosen this morning to accessorize with all her princess bling, and as I was getting her into her car seat , she dropped a bracelet and ring into the street. I set my precious gift on top of the mommy buggy, picked up the dropped jewels, secured Little Miss into her car seat and promptly drove away.

Because I was in front of the school I was not driving very fast but it was fast enough to fling my beautiful Mother’s Day present crashing to the ground. My gift, made for me by my son, which I hadn’t even opened yet. I heard it happen, stopped and retrieved it. As soon as I picked it up I knew it was broken.

gift

My heart has hurt all day. And I’ve shed some tears. But I am married to a man who keeps a well-stocked garage so I am confident there is super glue in there somewhere that may fix this beautiful art. I am not confident that it will work but I have to try. I don’t even know how to tell my son I broke this.

So Happy Mother’s Day to all you Mamas. Hug your precious gifts close.

gingerbreadmama

Kicked, while down – A TMI post. You’ve been warned.

On days like today, I’m so happy for yoga breaths.

As previously blogged, last month I had a miscarriage and a D&C. I was supposed to have follow-up blood work done until my HCG levels were under 5 but I never did it. Chalk it up to stress, exhaustion, denial, whatever, I just couldn’t go once a week and have more blood drawn to tell me that I was no longer pregnant. I already knew that. And yeah, yeah, I get it that the blood work was to make sure the doctor didn’t miss anything, but I just wanted to put it behind me. So I didn’t go.

Flash forward to end of January, when I finally got my period. Because our birth control options are in flux, I am going to go on the pill until it’s figured out. So I dropped off my prescription on Monday but they didn’t have it so the gal said they’d order it and get it to me Tuesday.

I go to pick it up last night and the gal hands me a bottle of pre-natal vitamins. Can you say DUMBFOUNDED? WTF?

Obviously I mixed up the prescriptions. My doctor had given me the pre-natals on that oh my god I think I’m pregnant visit but I never filled it because it turned out I didn’t need to.

I went home and tore my house apart looking for the pill prescription but couldn’t find it so I called my doctor today, and you know what?  She won’t fill it until I have the stupid blood test done. I admit, I begged but she won’t budge and since she wields the power with her prescription pad.

Yoga breaths, yoga breaths, breathe, breathe…

As always, there is something funny in this little effed up situation. The mix up does explain why the pharmacy gal looked at me funny when I was dropping off the prescription in the first place, as I was there with my two small children who were tackling and terrorizing each other in the pharmacy line. At the time, I looked at her knowingly (and may have winked) and said, “I haven’t been on birth control in a long time” and she responded with a weird look and an umpfh. Clearly because she knew she was filling pre-natals and thought I was adding to my chaos.

So off to give blood that is only going to state the obvious I go…

Breathing all the way.

 

 

gingerbreadmama

Guest posting

I am so excited and thrilled to say I’m over at Mommy of a Monster & Twins today sharing a Mommy Moment!

Thank you so much to Natalie for asking me to play along. Go check me out over there and then read all her posts (and all the other Mommy Moments) because she is funny, informative (she’s connected people), her kids are adorable and she has crazy mom-s&*t happen to her just like the rest of us. Plus, she likes wine. Kindred, we are.

Happy Monday!

gingerbreadmama

Making lemonade

I had a maddening mommy moment today.

Yesterday another mom texted me to verify that it was “feast” day (where the parents all bring a food item so the kids can have a special lunch party and we don’t have to pack our kids a lunch) at the preschool because she didn’t make her son a lunch. I told her it wasn’t until Wednesday and Thursday, so she had to scramble to catch her hubby at home so he could pack a lunch for their kid.

So I get to the school today, confident in my knowledge that it is feast day, with no lunch packed for Fussypants and overhear one of the teachers telling another parent that it’s not a “feast” party it’s a “snack” party.

WTF?

So I say,” Really? Because that wasn’t my understanding and I know another mom who didn’t pack her son a lunch either” (but she hadn’t brought her kid to school yet so I had no back up). And the teacher says in the most condescending way, “If you didn’t need to bring Fussypants a lunch, then we would have put up a note”.

Well la-de-da and FU too. By the way, I only thought that, I didn’t say it. It’s a Christian preschool so I kept my mouth shut. For once.

Now out of the three teachers in my son’s room, she is my least favorite. We’ve just never made a connection, probably because she doesn’t engage and is more like a greeter than a teacher, “Hi, have a nice day, see you tomorrow” is really the most I ever hear from her. She never talks to me about my son, like the other two teachers do. And when I ask her questions about him she answers in really short sentences. It’s painful.

So now I’m really ticked off. One of my main duties as a parent is to make sure my child is fed and he has no flipping lunch. And the teacher made me feel like an a-hole for not knowing.

I’m already late for work but I race to the store to buy him lunchables and apples and a drink. I also bought a bag of frozen peas to keep it all cold because there is no fridge (and made a mental note to let Fussypants know he didn’t have to eat those for lunch – because he would have had a fit if he thought he had to eat an entire bag of peas). And a bottle of wine. For me. For later.

As I’m paying, the check-out kid cards me. Which gets my attention. Because I’m 41. And stressed. Which adds years to your face.

When he looked at my ID, he says, “Wow, you don’t look anywhere near 41″.

Bonus. Even though life had given me lemons that morning, my day got a little better. Just like that.

Sometimes, it’s all about making lemonade.

gingerbreadmama